The toys behind him moan, some in relief and others in despair. The poor toy missing a hand surely wishes he was dead. The burn on his arm where his hand used to be must hurt.
He’ll let that toy live for a few more days. He deserves the pain.
The one he’s had the longest is covered in cuts from where he’s been bled out, almost to the point of death. It’s so interesting to see how much blood a human body can live without before they die.
That’s a mistake Horace won’t make again.
“You’ve angered me, Lucien,” he says as he approaches the toy in the tub. “You think you can just have her? SHE’S MINE!”
The angry scream is shrill and right in the toy’s face, the flesh now covered in his spittle and coated by his horrible breath.
“I have a plan, and you’re fucking it all up. That won’t do. I think it’s time I teach you a lesson.”
He reaches for his favorite knife, the one he took from a shop in the Quarter, and lets the blade glide down the man’s torso but not cut.
No, not yet.
“Please,” the toy whispers. “Don’t do this.”
“You’re going to learn that you’re not in control, Lucien.” He tips the toy’s head back, pulls out his tongue, and cuts it from the toy’s head with one slash. Blood spatters the wall, covering the stains from the previous toy as screams fill the air. “Ah, yes. Yes, that’s better.”
Chapter Nine Millie
“Oh, it feels so good to get some fresh air,” Mama says from the back seat. Her window is down, and the wind blows over her smiling face. Her blond hair, streaked with very little gray, blows in the breeze.
“They let you enjoy the courtyard at the hospital, don’t they?” Brielle asks from beside her.
“Oh, yes. And it’s very nice, but this is better. I know the hospital is my home for now, and I quite enjoy it, but it’s lovely to get out and about, too.”
“Have you made friends there?” Daphne asks as she drives to the bayou so we can meet up with Miss Sophia. I was finally able to reach her yesterday after trying for almost a week. Until I made contact, I was becoming more and more frustrated, feeling like we were running out of time for some reason, though nothing specific happened to give me that impression.
I’ve hardly seen Lucien this week either, and that could account for some of my moodiness. Now that I’ve learned more about him, I look forward to seeing him, but we’ve both been busy with work this week.
Tonight is our first date, and I can’t wait. I just have to get through this afternoon with Mama and then I can spend some time with Lucien.
“She looks a lot like Millie.”
“What?” I turn and look at Mama. “Who looks like me?”
“You always were a daydreamer,” Mama says and pats my shoulder. I want to recoil at the touch. She doesn’t know me well enough to know what or who I am. “I was just telling you girls about a friend I made at the hospital. She has blond hair and brown eyes like yours, and she sometimes reminds me of you. She’s a sweet woman. Sad backstory, but I suppose we all have those if we live there, don’t we?”
I nod and breathe a sigh of relief when Daphne pulls into Miss Sophia’s driveway. Her cottage in the bayou has always been a haven for me. I’ve learned so much from her, spent many hours studying and talking with her. The cottage is neat with flowers and herbs planted all around the house, filling every inch of space with color and happiness.
Despite the warm fall we’re having, a thin trail of smoke trails up from her chimney, signaling a fire in the hearth—most likely with something cooking there.
Miss Sophia is a modern witch, but still utilizes old-fashioned tools of the trade.
My gut tells me that she has something in her cauldron on the fire.
And I can’t wait to find out what it is.
The front door opens as we all exit the car, and Miss Sophia walks out onto the porch and smiles down at us. She’s a petite woman with titanium-colored hair and gray eyes, wearing jeans and a red sweater. I rarely see her dressed casually. When we’re working together, she prefers to wear flowy dresses that remind me of Stevie Nicks.
The thought makes me smile.
“Good morning,” Miss Sophia says as we approach the porch. “Ruth, you look lovely. It’s so good to see you recovering and healthy.”
Mama climbs the porch steps and enfolds Miss Sophia in a hug. “Thank you, my friend. It’s been a long, long time.”
“That it has. Let’s go in, shall we?”
We’re led inside, moving past the living room to the kitchen where there’s already a pot of tea steeping, and a plate of apple muffins set out for us.
We sit at the table, and once our tea has been poured, Miss Sophia looks right at me.
“You’re angry, child.”
All eyes turn my way, and I shrug a shoulder. “I was angrier a few days ago. It’s simmered down some. Now, I’m confused and frustrated.”
“It’s understandable,” she replies. “This table is a place for truth, answers, and for love. It’s always been that way. And, sometimes, yes, there’s anger. But I won’t allow that to fuel the conversation.”
“Like I said, I’m okay, but I have a lot of questions.”
She watches me with those shrewd eyes for a moment and then nods. “Let’s see if we can’t answer them then. First, Ruth, how are you doing? I’m sure you have some questions, as well.”
“I don’t know that you can answer them,” Mama replies, her hands wrapped around her warm teacup. “I want to know where I went for all those years. I think I peeked through at times, but then it’s like I was shoved aside, and I don’t remember anything at all.”
“First of all, I know I apologized when
